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“No sound is left unused, from looped electronics to all combinations of acoustic sonic layering;
as with the rest of the discs, the results excite and mesmerize by turn, capturing what was
undoubtedly a fiery and introspective performance.”

At this point, there is nothing innovative or even novel about the combination of improvisation
and composition save the way the symbiotic relationship is achieved. On this score, Ensemble SuperMusique succeeds on all counts. This disc offers up four of what might
be described, loosely and inadequately, as graphic scores, though whatever images are involved are
not nearly as graphic in detail as the excellent playing and recording.

The oldest entry is John Rea’s Tempest, composed
in 1969 and here adapted for a much larger temporal canvas than its original two minutes.
Sussurations and long-form semidrone encompass voices and instruments of deliciously indeterminate
character, leaving aside the point or two at which identification is readily and vividly apparent.
Entering and exiting as the proverbial lamb, everything bubbles and seethes with an energetic
undercurrent, planes of sound nearly intersecting as unisons ebb and flow into each other, forming
complex but clear sonorities that shake hands before exiting.

The other three scores were composed in the past few years, and easily the most whimsical among
them is Malcolm Goldstein. Any fan of Ligeti’s
Aventures pieces will absolutely love this realization, such is its cheek
and daring. Swoops and glides abound, punctuated by vocal outbursts reminiscent of Phil Minton at his seriocomic best. The occasional unison is fodder both for pause and
momentary reflection before the zaniness recurs, turntable often at the ready and a wonderful
upward and rapid flick out of focus concluding the proceedings. Danielle Palardy
Roger’s TanGRAM is a study in what Jack
Kerouac, describing Proust’s Cambre
Cathedral, called slow concentric waves. According to shapes based on the ancient Chinese
puzzle, we ascend and descend in arcs and lines that creep glacially in and out of cognition as
timbres converge and diverge. There are a few similar passages in Tempest,
but TanGRAM is pure slow-motion bliss and horror as some percussion rolls a
foundation of dread and dynamics slowly increase, eventually leading to fragmentation in the final
minutes.

By way of total contrast, Jean Derome’s L’argent
roils, beats and explodes with the unbridled passion only an energetic ensemble of improvisers and
composers can bring to the table. Huge fits and starts pervade this sectionalized assault on the
senses, and, were it not for a first-rate recording, much of its nuance would be lost in the noise.
Fortunately, interstitial and timbral delineation is possible, and a few of the episodes are
greeted by the whoops and hollers of a particularly appreciative audience. No sound is left unused,
from looped electronics to all combinations of acoustic sonic layering; as with the rest of the
discs, the results excite and mesmerize by turn, capturing what was undoubtedly a fiery and
introspective performance.